


Shake Me Down

by SubwayWolf



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Established Relationship, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-25 21:21:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7547683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Developing routines is not normal for Mako and Jamie, and it doesn't look like it's going to be the new normal any time soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shake Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> this ship is Good and nobody can tell me otherwise. if you ship junkrat with a girl, get outta here right now immediately.
> 
> btw, i wrote this in a way that it can be read as trans!jamie if thats what you're down with. but it can be read both ways.
> 
> add me on battlenet PC [SubwayWolf#1494](http://masteroverwatch.com/profile/pc/us/SubwayWolf-1494), im a junkrat main/lucio secondary

Very few things are routine in their life anymore, but this has seemed to nestle in as a nice little pattern, accidentally, almost, the way it happened – because, Mako knows more than Jamie does, that regularity and normalcy don’t often show up in their lives, not without reason.

It goes something like this, when they fuck.

Mako goes flat on his back and Jamie climbs atop him, little twink cowboy atop a raging bull – or, more aptly, a snoozing one, freshly tipped by a rowdy, fire-headed teenager, but full of anger, and passion, and a burning heart. Once seated on top, Jamie spreads his legs and gets a grip on Mako’s curves, his easily-grippable soft body, and Jamie never falls off or slips, not even once. Keeping the prosthetics on helps with the balancing, and the metal is cold against Mako’s skin but he doesn’t mind. The heat of an Australian summer gets them clammy with sweat, and any relief is welcome, but suffering's worth it in favor of close, primal, contact, a desire similar to starving.

It’s all muscle memory now; they’ve done this enough that Jamie knows exactly how to the muscles in his torso to stay upright and balanced. He’s adept enough at this by now that he only needs one hand, sometimes none, and instead he can touch himself, or twist and squeeze one of Mako’s nipples while he’s running his uncannily-sharp tongue across it, giving it teasing sucks or taking it between his jagged teeth. Mako keeps his big hands on Jamie’s body, around his thin waist or his broader hips, or on either side of his ribcage to feel it expand with his gentle moaning and rapid, dog-like panting, and Mako uses his thumbs to trace the scars he finds there as he listens to the chorus of sounds, thankful – it’s not silence, but it’s not talking, either.

And when it’s all done, Jamie always protests because he doesn’t want to clean up the mess he made on Mako’s tummy or the mess between his own legs. He always lays down atop Mako’s tummy and catches his breath, rising and falling with the motion of each other’s synchronized breathing, and it’s quiet in their place, quiet enough for Jamie to close his eyes and his blonde lashes to spread across his freckled cheeks in a gentle fan, but they don’t stay closed for long. 

Jamie always realizes he’s being watched and picks his head up and gives Mako a toothy smile and scoots up so he can help put the mask back on. The mask helps him breathe, but he can go a long while without using it, but Jamie likes to help him fasten it back on, he likes to pull Mako’s hair into its tie and then cross the mask around his head, and he especially likes to put a hand on Mako’s chest to feel his lungs fill with air as soon as the mask takes effect, how it rises, filling, then deflates, softly.

When Jamie climbs off their dirty, suspiciously brown mattress and goes to find something to clean himself off with, he’s still smiling. “Wasn’t that the best night of yer life, Roadie? You are so lucky to have me. The luckiest man in the goddamn Outback.”

Mako takes a nice, clean breath through his mask. He considers not responding, but he has to say something, so he grunts curtly, “Put some clothes on.” 

And Jamie goes yapping on, something about his own cute little ass being on display, and that Mako should be grateful that he’s getting the privilege of seeing it, or something.

Over time, Mako has learned to tune out his voice so that he can just here key words, the few words that come out of his mouth that mean something - question words like “why” or “what”, or if he says “help” while they’re fighting, or if he says “Mako” instead of “Roadie”, which always means he’s going to say something serious. Usually, however, it's not anything serious, and what he says typically isn't worth keeping up with. The speed he works at, the rate his heart beats - it's a tempo too fast for Mako's liking, and Jamie knows that, but he just likes the sound of his own voice, so it doesn't bother him if he's not responded to.

Sometimes, it matters, though. 

Jamie uses his words a lot, but it's not all the same. Mako has learned aptly to tell the difference between _Oi, Roadie, I love ya mate_ , and the alternative, _Mako, I love you_. He’s also learned to let both sound like music to his ears, like music used to, before it all. He can’t remember the last time he’s heard a song; there’s not much electricity here in the Outback. But Jamie’s voice, when it isn’t nails on a chalkboard, is good enough, maybe even better.

**Author's Note:**

> btw, i take prompts, so if you wanna suggest anything, here's my FAQ which includes a link to contact me, right on my [tumblr](http://subwaywolf.tumblr.com/fics)!!


End file.
